Breathe
by hinky doodle
Summary: Abby's thoughts during the events of season 11's "Skin". Written from a one word prompt: breathe.


_Breathe._

Just breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Don't think.

Just breathe.

That was her mantra as she stared at the gun pointed in her direction. Pointed at her chest.

_Keep breathing._

She'd yelled and argued, demanded questions at first. When they first pushed her into the backseat of the SUV. As they sped off down the rain slicked city street. What were they doing, where were they going, why were they doing this? Couldn't they see that their friend needed to be in the very place they'd dragged her away from?

The gun silenced her voice.

It didn't quiet the beating of her heart; she could hear it pounding in her ears. She was acutely aware of her own pulse throbbing at her neck. She counted the throbbing pressure to calm herself, to get control of the fear that threatened to consume her.

_Keep breathing._

What they asked for was impossible. She couldn't help the man bleeding to death in front of her. Not like this, not here. She was a doctor, not a magician. She needed the tools of her trade when she worked. She needed a clean, sterile, well-lit environment. She needed her superiors and a nursing staff. 

They gave her cough syrup and rubbing alcohol. Ace bandages and a sewing kit. Bottled water. They provided a bumpy ride in the back of a dirty vehicle. Instead of light she had angry glares and a gun promising her the same fate as her patient if she failed.

_Keep breathing._

They took her pager and threw it out the window, onto the freeway, as they sped out of the city limits. That act scared her more than the others. The small digital box had been a connection to ground her. A lifeline. Now she was isolated.

Blood soaked through her scrubs, coated her hands with warm and stickiness. She almost blanched as she felt a slippery length of intestine against her bare skin. No gloves, no gowns, no goggles. Just rawness and dying. She knew then that the young man wasn't going to live. He was going to bleed out or go septic right here in this truck. 

And she was pretty sure once he did, she'd be joining him.

_Keep breathing._

They were in the woods now. Some woods, she told herself. She had no idea where but she was acutely aware of the fullness of her bladder, the sharp pain in her side as her body demanded relief. She somehow found her voice and told her capturers that she had to pee. Pee, not urinate. She wasn't able to be clinical in this setting; it was hard enough to make the request.

Harder still to actually go. They were shining a light in her face. Pointing a gun at her head. Watching her. Taunting her. Was she afraid of the big black man? No, she'd manage to tell them. She was afraid of the big black gun. Her hands shook as she untied her pants. She squeezed her eyes closed against hot tears as she willed her body to relax even under the invasion of privacy.

They were going to hurt her. Rape her. Shoot her. Leave her out here to die.

_Keep breathing._

Back in the SUV her patient, their friend, stopped breathing. Abby's heart stopped for a moment as well. Then her mantra changed just the slightest.

_Breathe._

Just breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Don't die.

Just breathe.  
  
She talked herself through CPR. Chest compressions; push down fast…hard. A couple of inches and it felt as if she was going to push right through his chest as her hand hit his sternum on every downward thrust. Later she might say it was her training that took over and made her forget her fear as she ordered the gang members to give mouth to mouth to their friend but it wouldn't be true. It was her fear that caused her to bark the orders.

She didn't want to die out here. Not with some stranger's blood on her hands. Not in the woods wearing dirty scrubs soaked in her own urine. She didn't want to die afraid. She needed this man to live. Oh god, she needed him to live.

He didn't.

They were screaming at her again. Forcing her to lie down on the back seat, face against the cold leather. Gun at her head again. She wasn't allowed to talk. To move. To see. And as the vehicle began to move once more, Abby was certain once more that she wouldn't be allowed to live either.

_Keep breathing._

Once she couldn't take the smell of the leather any longer and she couldn't stand the sight of the gun for another moment, Abby turned her gaze upwards. Through her tears she couldn't make out anything more than blurred colors. Street lights, traffic signals maybe. So many swerves and turns that she didn't know in what direction they were headed.

Fear had left her by then and shock set in. A numbness. Cold. There were no thoughts to think, no tears to cry. No hope to have and never any prayers to make. She didn't believe in them.

As they came to a stop and the door opened, she was told to get out. Instead she flinched. Maybe there was still some fear to be felt after all. As she got out of the SUV she was too dazed to notice where she was at first. It hit her slowly, one sensation at a time.

The ground was hard under her feet. Asphalt wet with rain.

The wind was cold against her bare arms, cut right through her thin green scrubs.

Loud noise shook her back into reality as the El train thundered overhead.

Abby turned and walked back into the ambulance bay. Stiffly at first, her head tucked down in fear, her arms straight and pressed against her sides. And then she ran for the safety of the hospital.

_Breathe._

Just breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Don't think.

Just breathe.


End file.
